


A Dream Is A Wish

by FrozenHearts



Category: Cinderella (2015), Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur and Gwen are king and queen, Canon Relationships, Captain and Gwaine become prankster buddies, Everyone knows about Merlin's magic, F/M, Fantasy, Freya comes back from the dead sometimes, Friendship, Gen, Gwaine Is Awesome, Kit and Ella meet in Camelot at a ball held by Gwen and Arthur, Magic is allowed in Camelot (yay!), Merlin and Fairy Godmother are besties omg, Merlin and Fairy Godmother save the day, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Romance, Slightly AU pretaining to the Cinderella 2015 storyline, The Tremaines are generally horrible as usual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 04:23:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4507617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrozenHearts/pseuds/FrozenHearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and Guinvere, upon becoming the new King and Queen of Camelot, hold a ball for the kingdom and invite a few neighbors as well. While Arthur is occupied with Prince Kit and other guests, Guinevere meets a young woman who's in need of help after her family refuses to let her go to the ball. And Merlin, as usual, causes mischief with magic that only he can manage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I fell in love with the Cinderella 2015 movie and I was rewatching the scene where Ella and Kit meet in teh woods and then again a the ball. I was also rewtaching Merlin, so I was like, "Why not have them meet, but at Arthur and Guinevere's ball instead?" 
> 
> Of course, I loved Helena Bonham-Carter's Fairy Godmother, so I decided that she and Merlin know each ther through the Druids. It'll make more sense when you read the story I promise.

  The dining hall was abuzz as guests and servants roamed about, chatting politely or trying to find their seats at a long table. Candles sat in sconces on the wall, and armored guards were stationed at the entrance of the main doors. Women were dressed to the nines with swirling skirts and beautiful jewels, the men dressed lavishly to match. 

  “I daresay, this is quite nice, Sire,” an old man spoke to a young king, “the most fun you’ve had in a while.” The young man adjusted the crown on his blond hair, sending the old man a smile.

   “Thank you, Gaius,” he said, “and I hope you and Merlin are having fun?” The men cast their glance about the room, eyes landing on a young man in a quilted red coat. His dark hair gleamed under the light, and the king smiled when he saw the man with a young woman in a purple dress, her own hair curled in soft waves down her back.

    “Well, he’s certainly entertained by Freya,” Gaius laughed, “although I have yet to see the Lady Guinevere?” 

    “She told me she wanted to greet the guests,” the king stated as he picked up a golden goblet, emeralds encrusted on the stem. A dark red wine sloshed around as he swirled it before taking a sip. It burned slightly as he swallowed, the glass clinking as he set it down. “Said she wanted to see an old friend of hers or something.”

   Nodding, Gaus left the king to his drink, his brown robes sweeping the floor as he went. He let his eyes wander, gaze landing on the knights as they jostled around, including one of the guests. Gwaine had the young man in a headlock, and although it looked as if he were cutting off the man’s airways, he still managed to laugh, playfully punching Gwaine’s arm when he was freed. The scrape of the chair echoed as the king stood up, and he soon found himself standing with the knights and their guest.

    “Arthur!” Gwaine clapped the king on the back, “Where’s Gwen?”

   “She’s attending to the guests,” Arthur replied with a grin, jutting his chin at the stranger, “Would you like to introduce me?”

   A pause, and then, “Ah, right! My friend, this is our fine king Arthur, although in reality, he’s a big prat-”

   “Hey!” Arthur pouted, “I am not! And when did you start using Merlin’s word?”

   “Since he said it, princess,” GWaine teased, clearing his throat as he gestured to the man. Like Merlin, his hair was dark, leaning more towards brown than black, and his eyes were an icy blue. His grin was friendly and open, and his teeth were impeccably kept. Most nobles nowadays had rotting stumps or ivory dentures, and Arthur could only hope his jaw did not befall such a fate. Unlike Merlin, however, he had a cleft in his chin, which suited him quite well. His clothes were all of a higher caliber; a pair of white breeches tucked into black boots, matched with a green waistcoat over an off-white silk shirt, a slight ruffle on the collar. A white coat was slung over that, with gold trimming and detail on the front and the cuffs. Long white tailcoats finished off his polished look.

    The ensemble made Arthur feel quite inadequate in his shiny silver armor and grand red cloak, a gold dragon emblazoned on the thick rope clasp and the shoulder of the fabric. 

    “Pleased to meet you,” the guest held out a white gloved hand, and Arthur could see thin lines of gold stitching on the fingers.

   “Pleasure’s all mine,” Arthur winced at the man’s strong grip, the firm shake he gave. 

   “Oh, um, Kit, is my name,” the man said, “Prince Kit.” Again he shook Arthur’s hand. 

   “I though tit was just ‘Kit’?” Percival piped up, “but if that’s the case, i do apologize for my friend’s actions-”

   “Oi! It was all good fun, my friend!”  Gwaine protested with a laugh, jutting his head in Merlin’s direction, “Freya seems nice, princess. You should go introduce yourself.” Arthur and Kit glanced at the serving boy, who was currently trying to teach Freya a few dance steps, the woman tossing her head back with a laugh as Merlin accidentally stepped on her foot. Her laugh dripped like honey, ringing like bells. Merlin reciprocated, and Arthur thought it was the happiest sound Merlin had ever made, with his goofy smile and blushed cheeks. 

   “I think they need some time together,” Arthur shook his head, “I mean, Merlin said the spell he used to bring her back won’t last forever.” Gwaine and the knights smiled knowingly, whilst Kit let confusion cross his features. Coming from another kingdom, Arthur thought it vital that the prince read up on Camelot law before attending the ball- which was, truly, Guinevere’s idea. 

   “I’ll explain later, Your Highness,” Arthur nodded, and Kit smiled sheepishly.

   “Just Kit, is fine, Your Majesty,” Kit corrected.

   “Well, than just call me Arthur!” Arthur proclaimed with a grin, “And have you happened to see my wife anywhere?”

   “Queen Guinevere?” Kit asked, “I believe I spoke with her when I came in- a lovely woman, really. You’re quite lucky to have her, if you don’t mind me saying.”

   “Yeah, or else I’d have swept her off her feet!” Gwaine boomed heartily, Leon and Percival joining in his laughter. Arthur rolled his eyes, receiving a knowing glance from Kit. It made Arthur wonder if the prince got as many jabs from his own knights. If so, he did a damn good job of dealing with it. Looking amongst the guests, Arthur noticed Kit’s accompaniment; a large man with deep chocolate skin, in an outfit similar to the prince’s own, but less extravagant and colored a pale blue. He seemed nice enough, chatting with Elyan about something involving blacksmiths, with the way Elyan was moving his hands. 

   “Captain really is a very nice man, Arthur,” Kit interjected, “I know he seems intimidating, but he’s a teddy bear.” He winked at the joke. 

  “Then I guess it’s time for us to go speak with this teddy bear,” Gwaine gathered Percival and Leon, and off they were, yelling obscenities and wagging fingers at their friend and guest. But true to Kit’s word, the large man was rather kind, picking Gwaine up off his feet with a bone-crushing bear hug. 

  “Well, what brings you to Camelot?” Arthur changed the subject, ushering the prince amongst the guests. He kept his eyes roaming for Guinevere, no doubt she was amongst them. Hopefully it wouldn’t be hard to spot her, as she wore a purple ballgown, white lilies embroidered on the skirt along with a fine gold stitch adorning the scoop neck collar. 

  “It was really Captain’s idea,” Kit said, “after my father passed, he suggested I make amends with other kingdoms in hopes of friendship and protection if the need arises.” Arthur noted the blush creep into his cheeks as he added under his breath, “Honestly, however, I’ve been looking for a girl.”

   Arthur scoffed, “Kit, I’m sure you could have any girl you want with a face like yours. It works for Gwaine, and he’s a knight.” Kit shook his head, licking his lips.

   “But I don’t  want just any girl,” Kit said, “and if I’m to marry, I didn’t want to be married to some woman my father or Captain would have met five minutes prior to engagement.”

  Arthur nodded- he had to agree, as it was the same case for his own marriage to Guinevere. She had started out as the Lady Morgana’s handmaid, and over time, as Camelot grew (and once Uther unfortunately passed), he became king, allowing himself to marry whomever he chose. And that person was Guinevere. But Arthur knew that it may not be as accepted in other kingdoms- Prince Kit’s included. The men had made it out of the dining hall and into the ballroom, guests swirling about here and there. A few were standing on the sidelines, watching happily as they sipped from drinks. A chandelier of glass hung from the ceiling, crystals hanging to create an effect of sunlight bouncing around the room. 

   “That’s sounds like my own situation, to be honest,” Arthur chuckled, “but how did you come across such a decision?”

   “Well, I met someone who once told me that just because something is done, doesn’t mean it’s right to do so.” He paused, “Or something like that. I’ve forgotten somewhat.”

   “It seems you have a wise friend then, Kit,” Arthur allowed his eyes to flit around the room until he saw her, skirts bunched in her fist as she walked briskly over. The click of her heels were earth shattering, slicing through the air like a knife as she yelled, “Arthur! Arthur!”

   “Guinevere! What’s wrong?” Arthur cooed as Guinevere gave him a quick kiss, her brown curls shaking around a delicate, heart-shaped face, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

   “I’m sorry, but I was out greeting the carriages as they came, and-”

   “Take a deep breath before you say anything, I wouldn’t want anyone fainting,” Arthur wrapped her in a hug, sending Kit an apologetic stare. Smoothing her skirt, Guinevere turned to the prince, “I do apologize, I’m not used to, well, all this finery and-”

   “Quite alright,” Kit nodded, smiling encouragingly as he bowed, “and you must be the Queen Guinevere.” Arthur watched as Kit placed a small kiss on her knuckles, making her giggle.

   “And you are?”

   “Prince Kit,” Arthur filled in, recalling how alarmed she was moments before, “Now, Guinevere, my love, you said something was the matter?” 

   “Oh! Oh, right! Well… I don’t think it’s anything you can do-” Arthur’s face fell in annoyance as Kit tried to stifle a laugh, “But do you know where Merlin is? He might be able to do something!”

   “I think he may be sending Freya back right about now, I don’t know how that whole thing works with them,” Arthur offered with a shrug. It was true- magic was not really his forte. Nodding, Gwen made her way to the dining hall, waving goodbye with a skip in her step. 

   “If you don’t mind me asking, who is this Merlin everyone keeps talking about?” Kit asked.

   “Merlin is a dear friend of mine and Guinevere’s,” Arthur offered, “as well as being with us since he came to Camelot about ten years ago, he’s also the newly appointed Court Sorcerer, although he refuses the title.”

   Kit was solemn as he joked, “Well, it seems we may need to upgrade our records, as Captain provided us with the wrong information. But as long as you’re fine with magic I see no harm.” Arthur gave his arm a reassuring squeeze, not too hard, not too soft.

   “We’ll be glad to provide any services you may need during your stay then,” Arthur said, then gesturing to the dining hall, “Shall we then? I can only assume you’ve quite an appetite.” 

   The two were about to re-enter the dining area when Guinevere swept past them, a reluctant Merlin in tow. Behind him was the one Merlin knew as Freya, although she seemed to not really be…. there completely. It was hard to watch, really, his servant bringing the love of his life back from the dead to help him celebrate whatever meager cause he deemed worthy of feasts, only to have to send her back again. It made him happy that Gwen was alive and well- not that her being alive and well was a bad thing, in fact, it was a wonderful thing! It was-

    “Arthur?” Kit’s voice shattered his thoughts and Arthur was surprised at the ease with which he used the name, like they were old friends instead of having just been introduced, “Shall we eat?”

   “Right, of course,” Arthur sent one last glance at Guinevere and Merlin’s receding backs before following Kit into the dining hall, surrounded by the banter and jovial union of friends.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to let you know that Cinderella might be slightly out of character. I plan on watching the movie again and hopefully I can get this right. Let me know if you like it and this is also not beta'd, so there might be some mistakes.

 Cinderella decided that she wanted to go home.

 Drizella and Anastasia, while at least trying to be cordial in their own snotty way, had given in to the demands of their mother, a cold, cruel woman who wasn’t keen on sharing things with others.

 And the ball held by the King and Queen of Camelot apparently fell into that category.

 In the carriage, she had been wearing a pink dress with chiffon and lace detailings, a beautiful gown owned by her mother. But Lady Tremaine deemed it unsuitable. Her daughters cackled as they pushed her out of the carriage, leaving her to sit in the mud while they approached a woman in a splendid purple ballgown, a golden crown resting atop her brown curls.

 Cinderella’s hands stung with scratches from breaking her fall on the cobblestones, her black ballet flats had a hole in the toe, and now her dress, the only thing she had left of her mother, was dirtied up and torn to ribbons. Her blond hair had come undone from its un at the nape of her neck, obscuring the tears that threatened to fall as she glanced up at her step-family, who approached the woman with a new air about them, brushing themselves off of anything dirtying their garish outfits.

 She had to admit that Lady Tremaine’s wasn’t bad; a deep green mermaid design with black lace overlay, and a lime green off the shoulder collar showed off her slim frame. A netted hat hung in her face, and behind the net was a sinister smile wrapped in scarlet. 

 Drizella and Anastasia could have been better; they both wore large skirted gowns of yellow and pink, with rows of sequins and bows and ribbons. Pearls dripped with decadence from their necks, and they struggled to pull long gloves up their arms to accommodate the many rings and bracelets they wore. without the decor, Cinderella decided the color scheme might have been nice, but now she decided it wasn’t to her taste.

 “May I introduce my daughters, Drizella and Anastasia,” the girl heard Lady Tremaine introduce, “and I am the Lady Tremaine.” Cinderella was aware of the woman’s eyes on her before curtsying to the three ladies.

 “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Tremaine,” she replied politely, “I am-”

 “Oh, dearie, what a lovely gown!” Lady Tremaine cut her off, “Of course, I don’t really think it matches your complexion, maybe a nice yellow or red. And a crown? Are you royalty?”

 Cinderella watched the woman falter before rolling her shoulders, lifting her chin, “Why yes, as a matter of fact I am. Queen Guinevere of Camelot. And I don’t appreciate such a tone.” She wanted to laugh as they rushed to curtsy, Anastasia muttering a curse as she tripped over the hem of her skirt.

 “My apologies, my liege,” Lady Tremaine tittered, sending a glance at Cinderella, “I do apologize for the girl, though. She isn’t really suited for these kinds of things.” 

 At this, Cinderella’s heart sank. That wasn’t fair. Before she came along, Cinderella’s life was a happy one, with garden parties and many friends coming to play and visit. As she grew she only reached out to more people, to help and spread kindness. 

 And then her mother had died, and it was as if her world was turned upside-down, the very notion of joy being ripped away from her. 

 “Well, if she’s on the ground then she isn’t suited for this kind of thing,” she heard Guinevere snap, the click of heels, and Cinderella dared not to look up, instead training her eyes on the soft purple velvet of the woman’s shoes. There were swirls in the fabric, as if she had dragged her finger along the material to create the gradient of color before deciding to slip them on. They were beautiful shoes, but Cinderella knew she would never be able to afford anything like them- at least, not anymore. 

  “Are you alright?” she heard the queen ask gently, a delicate, heart shaped face peering at her between the strands of hair. A few of her curls had come undone from her own bun, now framing her face. Cinderella now cast her gaze on her hands, refusing to look up at her. Her fingers were cracked with work, small scars decorating her fingers from fixing the hearth in her home, among other things. A laugh sounded from the entrance to the castle.

  “Your Highness, please, don’t waste your time on the help,” Lady Tremaine said coolly, “it’s not worth it, after all.” Cinderella flinched at the term.

  The ‘help.’ 

  Was that all she had become? A servant to higher-ups who cared little for her well being? Recalling the sudden change in her life, once her father had passed, she realized that yes, she was now considered a servant, a maid. No one of importance in the world unless it involved cleaning up after people like her stepmother and step-sisters. Tears dotted her eyes once more, and she willed herself not to cry, to stop her shoulders from shaking. Her arms were trembling from bending over, a familiar position from cleaning out the fireplace and scrubbing the floors. 

 And here was this queen sitting on the dirty ground with her, trying to get her to pick her head up. To look her in the eye.

“Well, the invitations sent out said that everyone was invited to the ball, Lady Tremaine,” Cinderella could hear the disdain in the queen’s voice, then to Cinderella, “What’s your name?”

 “Her name,” Lady Tremaine quipped, “is  Cinder ella. Now, shall we go inside? I’m sure we’ve much to talk about?” Cinderella wanted to laugh. Already, her stepmother was babying the queen, acting as if they would be friends for life if she spoon-fed her compliments. But Cinderella could hear the giggles from Anastasia and Drizella, the emphasis put on the blasted nicknamed gifted to her.

 She didn’t like it at first, but after being called by a certain name for so long, she almost forgets sometimes what her real name is. A pity, really. 

 “You go on ahead…” the queen’s voice seemed distant, and Cinderella could feel her eyes boring into her skull, “I’ll stay here. I’ve many guests to greet after all.” After making sure the three of them had left, Cinderella flinched at the woman’s question.

 “Are you alright?” she repeated, taking her hands from the ground, brushing the dirt and pebbles away, “Really?”

 “I-I’m fine, yo-your Majesty….” Cinderella kept her eyes down, a small gasp escaping her throat as the queen took her chin between her index finger and thumb, tilting her visage towards her.

  “You can look at me, you know,” the queen smiled, “I don’t bite, honest.”

  Cinderella didn’t know what to say. The queen- Queen Guinevere, she remembered her saying- was beautiful. Dimples teased the ends of her lips as she smile, and she had warm brown eyes. She reminded Cinderella of a fairy, a healthy glow adorning her dark skin under the lights. 

  “I apologize-” she began, a tear leaking free to fall down her cheek.

  “It’s okay!” Queen Guinevere gasped at her tears, “It’s okay! I’m sorry for startling you…?”

   It took Cinderella a minute to realize she was waiting for a name, for her to fill in the blank.

  “Cinderella, your Majesty….” the name sounded filthy on her tongue. But she couldn’t really call herself ‘Ella’ anymore now could she? It was the name her father called her, the name her mother sang each morning.

  Now that they were gone, she didn’t see a reason to be able to use the name anymore, and living with the Tremaines, she felt it possibly wasn’t allowed simply because Lady Tremaine said so, hypothetically speaking.

 “I don’t think that’s it,” Queen Guinevere shook her head, “That may be what those women call you, but what’s your real name? If I may ask?” Cinderella gulped. 

  “E-Ella…” she managed quietly, her breath hitching in her throat. Oh, no, she wouldn’t cry. Not here, not in front of a queen. In front of someone who was being kind, not scorning her as usual.

  “What a pretty name,” the queen said, “I’m Guinevere- and don’t worry about using the title, I’m still getting used to it. But do call me Gwen-”

  “I’m sorry-” Cinderella began, closing her mouth at the queen’s pursed lips.

  “I insist,  Ella ,” Guinevere put emphasis on the name, “and let’s get you up. I can get a servant to lend you a new dress-”

  “That’s lovely but I can’t,” Cinderella shook her head, “this dress, it was my mother’s, it’s all I have left-”

  She willed the tears to stay put as she cast her head down, eyeing the way the queen held her hands, her fingers lacing themselves between Cinderella’s own. It was hard to believe that a queen was capable of such kindness. It was something she read about in storybooks as a child, but here it was, clear as day. A queen who cared for her people and those beyond.

 “In that case, I can have my friend fix it,” Guinevere offered, “is that alright?”

 Cinderella was hesitant, but she nodded, and the queen lead her over to the steps by the entrance, as guests and knights and servants alike walked in and out, carrying trays or helping the ladies from their carriages. The stone steps were cold against ehr skin through the skirt of her torn dress, and she watched as the queen spoke with the help and knights like friends, like they were equals. She even went so far as to give a little girl a hug, not bothered with the fact that the girl’s mother warned her of her sticky hands and sugar-coated face. Cinderella felt her lips tug into a smile as the queen gave the little girl a kiss on the crown of her head, and soon her mother whisked her inside to tend to the food. A rustle of skirts, and the queen was now leaning forward, eyeing her with worry.

  “My friend can fix your dress, I promise,” Guinevere smiled softly once more, “just wait here and I’ll be right back, okay?”

  Cinderella could only watch as the queen waltzed into the castle, and she picked at the cloth as she waited on the steps.


End file.
